


What's in a name?

by shouldgowork



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Gen, Lothar's A+ parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldgowork/pseuds/shouldgowork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anduin Lothar is relieved to see his son is not among the list of new recruits. It doesn't last long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a name?

Lothar stumbled down the corridor, ground rising to meet his feet too fast, walls edging away from his steadying palms, and wondered if he’d drunk too much.

‘ _Maybe._ ’ He thought to himself, as his face made contact with the flagstones, cool and welcome. But not a place to fall asleep, or at least, not a place to wake up the next morning. This one social instinct, honed during years of sneaking out after curfews, of covering up for and with the young prince (as was), hauled him up on his feet. He continued his journey, the songs and cheer of the evening helping him on his way.

He lurched through the door to his chamber and straight into a chair, grabbing for the water jug on the desk and knocking it over. Cursing, he reached for the nearest piece of paper to try to mop it up, stopping as he recognised the hand of his sergeant.

It slowly came back to him. He’d been out drinking to celebrate, to celebrate the recruits’ graduation from training. Which meant it was time for the new recruits. Which meant this was the list of said new recruits. Ice pooled in his stomach as he sat back down heavily, watching the water spread across the surface and start to drip onto the floor and his lap.

The boy had turned thirteen; Llane and Taria themselves had given him their loud, ostentatious blessing, both familial and royal, on the day itself, Taria looking over and giving him one of her warning looks. Never mind how he felt about it, how difficult it was for him to have the boy around, and it’s not like his ability to focus isn’t _important,_ even if the alliance has made his job, and all their lives, easier.

But no, they never thought of that. Or his feelings, his pain, though he’d rather have died than say as much to them. It was as fresh, right now, as it had been all those years before; his anger at how everyone had been so fucking concerned about _its_ wellbeing, and not a word about Cally, as if she were a broken container with a precious cargo. How sad, they’d all said, that Callan would grow up without his mother, as if that had been her only role in life. Another sensation replaced the ice in his stomach, an unpleasant, heavy nausea, as often happened whenever his thoughts tended this way. Which, as ever, just made him angrier at the boy.

Steeling himself he looked down the list, helpfully in alphabetical order. Not a single Lothar. Thank the Light, the boy must have changed his mind. The wild laugh of relief died on his lips as he looked further down the page.

Callan Teague.

Lothar’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Callan Teague’. He said slowly, hoping that out loud it would somehow turn into another name. It didn’t, and sounded and felt worse than it had been to read. There was no way this wasn’t the boy; Callan was an unusual name and Teague not too common either; the last time Lothar had had cause to speak that name was as he’d replaced it with his own. The boy had no right to use it, none at all. What was he playing at? Was this some sort of joke to him? Something to wind Lothar up with? An attempt to disown his father? That, more than the other reasons, he could accept. In any case, he had to find out. Now. He made his way to the boy’s rooms, shaking him roughly by the shoulder.

‘Why’d you do it.’ He hissed.

‘Do what?’ Callan said, blinking back into consciousness.                                  

‘The name. It’s a _lie._ ’ Lothar replied, grabbing the paper from his pocket and jabbing at it accusingly. 

‘Didn’t want to use your name. I want to be judged on merit.’ He said evenly, his jaw set, glaring straight at his father.

Lothar stared back, searching, not finding any hint of a lie. He grunted and released the boy from his grip, already starting to feel a little foolish.

_Admirable_ , he thought.

‘Stupid.’ He said. ‘I mean, it’s not like you’re the only palace kid on the list, for a start.’

‘Oh.’

‘Didn’t think of that, did you? _And_ I do some of the training. You think something like that wouldn’t be obvious?’

The boy’s shoulders slumped, as if his body was frowning, though his face remained grim and unmoving.

‘But it was…’ All the words that came to him seemed either horribly inadequate or, even worse, over-familiar. He gave the boy’s arm a companionable slap instead and smiled. His son smiled back, and the nausea in Lothar’s gut subsided.

Silence. Lothar felt he ought to fill it, but what with? What were you meant to say at times like this? What would Llane say?

‘I have to report for duty in six hours.’ Callan said suddenly.

‘Wh- oh. Yes. Well remembered.’ Lothar said, relieved to be on familiar ground. ‘I guess you should get some rest. Lothar.’ He added at the end, using the correct form of address for a new recruit.

‘Yes sir.’ Callan said, saluting.

Lothar returned the gesture and left, returning to his office to clean up the mess.  

 


End file.
